Castle - Resurgence
by USNAGator1991
Summary: A look at the events that brought Castle and Beckett from the fateful encounter with Caleb Brown to the family they deserved from the series finale. My entry for @CastleFicathon #CastleFicathon
1. Chapter 1

A/N: There are no shortage of opinions among Castle fans regarding how the series ended. But as Richard Castle said, "the story is the story." This will be my take on what happened in the seven years between Caleb Brown's visit to the loft and the very end of the finale. These are not my characters, and this is solely my interpretation as to what happened. I think there are stories to be told about this, but they must remain true to what we have, so no AU from me. Please take a look and comment. I'd love to share what I think happened. Welcome to Castle, Resurgence

Chapter 1

There is a misconception among people, those that read books or watch movies and television shows, that when a gun is equipped with a "silencer", there is no sound. The inherent physics of firing a weapon belies the truth behind the notion that a silencer truly eliminates the loud explosive echo that the chemical reaction that propels a bullet at hundreds of feet per second. In reality, a suppressor changes the sound of a firing gun. It muffles the report, allowing anyone nearby to hear the click of the hammer on the cartridge, and the metallic snap of the slide shuttling backward and pulling another round into the chamber. It's different, but hardly silent.

As a widely read and studied mystery writer, Richard Castle knew full well these facts. His brain was wired to question his environment, analyzing nuances of action and reaction, seeing and applying facts to deductive reasoning in his drive for authenticity in his writing and furthering his connection to the reader. So in the millisecond before the impact of the shot from Caleb Brown, Castle's mind was fixated on the sound, the clicking made by the firing pin hitting bullet, trying to catalog in his memory, in a uniquely disassociated way right up to the point he felt the shock and pain of the bullet.

Castle hit the floor hard, his back slamming to the hard wood as the momentum of the shot carried him down further into the kitchen. The first emotion to hit him was shock, surprise, the impact felt so unreal. He'd been shot before, by a deranged fan who'd accidently discharged a gun during a hostage standoff at a dentist's office. That had hurt, but his bullet resistant vest had stopped the round and the end result was that he'd simply had the wind knocked from his chest. This was different. There was no hard polymer to stop the bullet, so it had carried into his chest, into his body and immediately sent him into a mélange of pain and agony. Still, in the back of his mind, he was processing, figuring out what was going on. He'd latched on to the beginnings of clarity. Why had Mason needed to burn Caleb Brown's body in a car if he'd had access to a secret incinerator? Very often, these musings had led to answers. This time, the answer was almost instantaneous, in the form of a gunshot to the chest. He looked up and saw the face of his assailant. Caleb Brown was alive. Castle's mind raced. He had to buy time. He had save Kate.

"Caleb, you don't need to do this…" He didn't mean it to sound as pleading as it did. The expanding flow of numbness and pain was radiating through his chest and down his spine. He could feel his life ebbing away. He had to buy Kate time; time to act, time to get away. Caleb's sneer made Castle's heart sink.

"Sorry, Rick. I can't have you and missus following me around to the ends of the earth." Caleb raised the gun and aimed at Castle's head. Castle felt despair, not because he would die, but of what he would miss. He and Kate had finally closed all the loose ends. They were free, they could now pursue their life together. Well, they'd closed all the loose ends save one: Caleb Brown. Now, Castle knew, he would die.

"Castle!" How many times over the past eight years had he heard that voice say his name? The inflections would change, based on her mood or the circumstance, but the surge of electricity that coursed through his heart when he heard her say his name never changed. It was the same even now, as the first time they'd met. His despair turned to hope. Again, Richard Castle wasn't thinking that he'd live. The pain, the shock were permeating him, but the resolution in Katherine Beckett's voice, saying his name, told him that she'd live. She was acting. She was being her same, assertive self.

The shots rang out in the loft. The soft clicking of Caleb's weapon intermingled with the loud, confident reports of Kate's service weapon. Castle heard, but did not see Caleb fall to the floor, and the confidence in his chest surged, despite the pain. Then, he heard a sickening noise, the sound of gun hitting the wooden floor nearby. He turned his head in time to see his wife, the love of his life, the most extraordinary woman he'd ever encountered, falling to the floor, with an ugly blot of red expanding on her white shirt. She'd been hit.

Any thought of his pain left his mind. He had to get to her. He willed his body to move, shock fighting him the entire way. He dragged himself, hand over hand, his eyes locked on hers as she made her way to him. His mind raced. Nothing mattered but to get to her. She was his reason for being, his life made new, and his redemption. He crawled towards her, fighting with every ounce of strength he had. He felt it waning; he felt his life slowly ebbing away as he stretched the last few paces to her. He felt her place her hand in his own. He marveled, even at this moment, how she could such a warm and delicate touch while being such a strong and resilient person. He felt the smile form on his lips.

Castle knew he was going to die. Remarkably, his death didn't make him afraid. His thoughts were of her, of Kate. Was she going to be all right? He couldn't see her, just glimpses of her hair in his peripheral vision. He didn't know how badly she'd been hurt. He concentrated all of his essence, all of his love in her direction. She had to make it. He hoped his warning had been enough. The edges of his vision began to blur, then fade.

He felt the darkness closing in and he closed his hand tighter on Kate's. His mind flashed visions of them and their time together in a rapid, picture show fashion. She was his life. As his sight grew darker, he fought as hard as he could, finally focusing on one image, one picture. Hers. He let out a brief sigh, and the darkness became complete, with one thought, one word on his mind.

"Kate."

One of the things that made Richard Castle a bestselling, world renowned author was his attention to the small details in his books. He had a knack for research and embedding his material with authentic slices of really useless information. He was the absolute worst person to play in Trivial Pursuit, as his brain was inundated with a prodigious amount of useless knowledge. There was one time, when researching a Derek Storm novel, he'd spent a couple of weeks with a sleep specialist in order to get background on what sleepers were aware of in the outside world while they slept. Remarkably, he'd been fascinated at how much the external environment, things like sounds and smells, tend to permeate one's dreams, while not necessarily making the dreamer aware of it happening.

Case in point for Castle, he knew he had to be in bright room because there was an overabundance of light in his dream. He was standing, alone in an empty white room, walking the perimeter of the walls, trying to find some sign of a way out.

"Is this heaven?" He thought to himself. "Nah, can't be. Why would I be in heaven? It's not like I'm dead." Suddenly, as was the tendency with memory, especially traumatic ones, the details of his and Kate's shooting flooded him, washing him a wave of pain and horror. He gasped. Was he dead?

He looked around. The room he was in was too sparse. While bright, there was no omnipresent white light. He resolved himself to the notion that it wasn't heaven, consequently he wasn't dead. So where was he?

For a moment, the same old Castle appeared in this dream room. "Maybe I've finally been abducted by aliens?" He smiled at the thought, at the possible validation of one of his pet conspiracy theories. Then he shuddered. "I really don't need any 'probes'."

He glanced around the room and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and listened. "I'm asleep." He concluded. He let out a sigh of relief. He remembered times when he remembered dreams, remembered how ever so slowly, the outside world would slowly bring him back to awareness, and then he'd wake up. For some reason, he really wanted to wake up. The flood of memories passing through his brain were disturbing. LokSat, Flynn, Mason, Kate being shot. He needed to be awake, and be in the real world, if only to get away from the havoc the memories were wreaking on his mind. The interview with the sleep specialist came back to him.

"The key is to focus on anomalies to your surroundings. Fixate on sounds or odors or sights that just don't fit the dream." Castle smiled. He'd had Derek Storm pull himself out of a somnolent state by registering the steady ticks of a timer on a bomb in order to save himself. While obviously fantastic, he really didn't have anything else to do, but try.

Again, he closed his eyes, breathing steadily, using his senses. Then he heard it, a sound. It was faint, but steady.

"Beep. Beep. Beep…"

What was that? He concentrated. Immediately, Derek Storm came to mind. It was a bomb timer. No, that wasn't it.

"Beep. Beep. Beep…"

The frequency was increasing a bit. Maybe it was an alarm clock, going off? He frowned. Well that was a problem. In his daily routine, he'd managed to train himself to ignore the incessant bleating of an alarm clock in order to get a few more minutes of sleep. He was the king of procrastination, as Kate once reminded him. No, that wasn't quite right. The tone was more soothing, more reassuring, as if it indicated something positive. It was regular, like a metronome, or rather, like the beating of a heart.

"Beep. Beep. Beep…"

That was it. In his mind's eye, he gave a little fist pump. It was a heart monitor, like those found on patients in a hospital room. Then it hit him. That was it. Those were his heartbeats. Which could only mean, he was alive. The clarity hit him like a flash. Everything became dark, the white room gone. But it wasn't the permanent darkness of sleep or death. It was the physical darkness of having his eyes closed. His other senses took hold. The number of smells and sounds multiplied. He knew he was awake. All he need do now, was open his eyes.

So, he did.

He willed his eyelids to open. Things were hazy, so he shut his eyes again, and then opened them slowly. The room came into focus. He was lying in a bed. It was a hospital room. He felt constrained, immobile. He tried to turn his head to the side to get a broader view of things, but he really couldn't move. His throat was dry, and his breathing regular, the intubation tube in his throat forcing air into his lungs, but keeping him from moving completely. He moved his eyes back and forth, only able to really see the plain ceiling tiles of the roof above. Maybe he could move his hands, take this tube out. He tried to move his arm, but all that happened was a slight tremor in his hand, his fingers opening and closing ever so slightly. There was rustle of movement that he caught in his peripheral vision. Someone was in the room with him. He caught a glimpse auburn hair crowned in the aura of lingering sunlight flooding the room through the window and smiled.

"Dad." She came into his line of sight, a look of infinite worry and overwhelming relief. Alexis' eyes were wet with tears, but her smile was steady and strong. She touched his cheek and turned towards the back of the room.

"I need some help in here. He's awake!" She turned towards him and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. "Hang in there, Dad, we'll get someone in here to get that off of you." She turned to the door again to make sure she'd been heard, then returned her gaze to him. "It's good to have you back, Dad. I love you."

Castle tried to smile, but the sensation of relief had turned to exhaustion. As he waited, he felt himself drifting off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Kate.

The peace of his slumber was rattled. He was alive, but where was Kate? He'd seen Alexis, but no Kate. Where was his wife? Was she alive? The questions came at a rapid pace. How had he gotten here? How had they'd missed Caleb Brown being alive?

The questions made his mind cast off any vestige of rest or sleep. His eyes opened and he felt a momentary panic as a pair of hands held his head and he felt the pressure of the intubation tube being pulled from his throat. When it cleared his mouth, he gulped in a lungful of air.

"Easy, Mr. Castle. Just take your time, you need to adjust." A doctor in a white lab coat, looking no older than Alexis was holding his wrist and timing his pulse with stop watch.

Alexis was at Castle's side, holding his free hand. "Just relax, Dad."

He turned to face his daughter. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and he couldn't seem to product a sound when he breathed out through his vocal chords. He swallowed and then tried harder. Alexis looked at him anxiously, not from any fear that he wasn't getting better, but more, it seemed to Castle, that she dreaded the question she knew he was going to ask. Castle loved his daughter, but he had to know. He had to ask. He grit his teeth, and focused every ounce of strength he possessed, and finally, in a raspy, unsteady, but clear voice he asked.

"Where's Beckett?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Castle was completely aware that more often than not, the adult in his father/daughter relationship was Alexis. In many ways, his daughter had served to center him in his most tumultuous times, before Beckett. Despite her precocious nature, there were times when she was just his little girl. These were times when her vulnerability showed through. Granted, to Castle, these times were few and far between, and often came in times of stress or sadness. His mind went immediately to the Skype call he received from her, when she'd broken free of her captors in Paris. She was scared and alone, and the expression on her face melted his heart and drove him to taking extreme actions. That was the look on her face at this very moment.

"Where's Beckett, Alexis?" There is no way that anyone, friend, family or stranger, would ever characterize Richard Castle, the father, as an authoritarian. He'd tried, from time to time, to exercise a scintilla of control, but every time he'd backed down or been rendered powerless by his daughter's superior maturity. But this was Beckett he was talking about. His life had changed because of her. Beckett was the better part of who he was. He'd told Beckett that he'd walk into a tornado for her. That wasn't even remotely close to the lengths he would go to protect her and love her. He'd even grow up and be an adult with his daughter, if that was what was needed.

He drew himself up in the bed, his shoulders straight and stared right into his daughters viridian eyes. "Alexis. Tell me. Where's Beckett?"

Alexis' eyes almost left her father's. Not one to be at a loss for words, she stumbled and stuttered. Castle braced himself for the worst, a chasm of darkness seemed to be spreading through his chest as scenarios of what the "worst" could be echoed in his brain.

"I'm here Castle."

As a novelist, Castle had a demonstrated a flair for the dramatic, surprise reveal. His fans were legendary for their zeal in how he would tease them by bringing them to the edge of an abyss, and then draw them back with some last second reprieve, some character exposition that was unexpected. Castle prided himself on finding unique ways to tease his audience. This pride extended into his real life. He'd try to surprise family and friends with elaborate pranks or with fantastic gifts to draw from them that reaction to the unexpected. He loved that reaction. Now he was on the receiving end.

"I'm here Castle."

Her voice was like the sun on a tropical beach, its warmth cascading through every part of his body, reaching into the depths of his heart and wiping away any vestiges of that chasm of despair that had threatened to overwhelm him just a moment earlier. For a split second, he couldn't bring himself to look towards the door. What if he'd imagined it? What if he was hearing her voice in his head and it wasn't real?

"Castle?"

There it was again, louder and clearer. He couldn't resist. He glanced up and faced the door, and there she was. Katherine Houghton Beckett. She was radiant, her flowing hair bounced about her shoulders, not a strand out of place. Her shoulders were straight and her green eyes were lined with worry and love. Seeing her was like seeing her for the first time, all over again. The jolt of energy that both mesmerized and paralyzed him was something that he remembered, but couldn't quite recall until this very moment.

"Beckett." It was the first time since he'd woken that he'd been able to speak without effort. Her name just seemed flow from his lips. He stretched his hand to her, as if he were trying to shorten the distance between them. She rushed forward to his side and hugged him gingerly, like he would break if she held him any more tightly.

She put her hand gently on his cheek, and with the other lightly brushed a wayward strand of hair from his forehead. "How are you feeling?" She asked, the concern in her voice palpable.

"Tired." He managed. The sensation flooding his consciousness was overwhelming. Every one of his senses were on overdrive. She smelled like a spring day in a flower garden. The touch of her hand on his skin was like a live wire on his cheek. Her presence filled him with so much love, it seemed as if his heart would burst right out of his chest. His physical weakness was holding him back. Try as he might, he couldn't get his body to move as fast as he wanted nor did he seem to have the strength to do what he wanted to do, namely hold her in his arms and carry her away. Then, as if reminding himself that he'd forgotten something important, his head snapped up.

"What about you? I saw you get shot." His eyes moved to body, looking for the telltale signs of the wounds she'd received.

"I'm fine, babe." She hesitated a bit, and Castle, despite his condition, picked up on it right away.

He looked at her, holding her eyes with his own. "What is it?" Was there something wrong with her? He glanced over at Alexis. "What are guys not telling me?"

For the first time, Beckett and Alexis shared a glance. Then Beckett rose to her full height. "Castle, what do you remember from being shot?"

"You know what, Beckett?" His gaze moved up to her face. "You were right. I remember everything." When she'd been shot by Bracken's minions, despite the trauma, Beckett had revealed that she had a complete recall of all the events that had occurred after she'd been shot.

Castle sighed heavily. "I remember Caleb standing over me. I remember hearing shots. I saw you fall on the ground." The echoes of that moment weighed on him as a fresh wave of concern and anxiety threatened to overtake him. His glance moved quickly to the front of her body as he tried to tease out the obvious signs of her injuries. He pushed through the memory. "I remember crawling towards you and…" He paused, the pain of the sight of her vulnerability winning the battle. "I remember holding your hand."

"And then?" Beckett prompted.

He looked up at her, confusion on his face. "And then, nothing. I woke up here." Alexis and Beckett, both wore the same pained expressions. Castle switched between the two of them, and then raised his left arm up to the right side of his chest. His fingers probed the spot where he'd been shot. It hadn't been obvious until that exact moment, but he wasn't in pain from the wound. It was sore, but no more than his entire body was weak and sore. He rubbed his chest with the tips of his fingers. There was a spot, more of a scar, but the wound itself was basically healed. His head turned towards Beckett.

"Babe, you've been in a coma for three months. It's almost Labor Day."

Castle was stunned. He pushed through the memories, despite the pain of the experience. Try as he might, his recollection went from blacking out in his loft to waking up no more than a few minutes ago. His head fell back onto his pillow.

Beckett leaned forward and grasped his hand in hers. The concern in her voice matched the anxiety in her eyes. "Castle? Babe, are you ok?"

Castle lay for a moment, and then raised his head. "Well, that's two out of the last three summers that I don't remember happening." In an instant, even if were just for a brief moment, the old Castle returned. "This is worse than when I was seventeen and snuck three kegs into my cabin at summer camp. I don't remember that summer either."

He flashed his trademark grin and gripped Beckett's hand tightly. She smiled back at him and leaned down and whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Rick."

"I love you too."

Rick felt the exhaustion overtake him, almost instantly. He lay back in his bed and slowly drifted off to sleep. There so many questions, so many details to understand. He knew he'd have to deal with them soon enough. For now, he was alive. Better yet, Kate was alive. He'd start asking his questions, in the morning.

A/N: I have to say that I was a bit discouraged by the tone the last season of Castle had, less upbeat, and much darker, especially with regards to our two main characters. So, my intent is to get to the more lighthearted aspects of their relationship, but there are some things we'll need to address before then. So, the first few chapters may be a little more serious, but if you bear with me, we'll get back to the essence of Castle. Again, your feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Haden Farber stole a glance at his phone mounted on the dashboard of his car for the tenth time as he circled the block around his target address. He'd been working a week straight, the ride sharing service having taken off in the city and allowing him to be independent while making enough money to pay the rent. Of course, there was a downside. He had promised his girlfriend that he'd be home by midnight, and here he was taking a last minute rider at two in the morning. New York was the city that never slept, and it wasn't all that unusual for Haden to field requests this late into the evening, yet this part of southern Manhattan was more of an industrial area, full of warehouses and older brick buildings, normally busier during the daylight hours. But gentrification combined with how much the more affluent people around Haden's age had made for many hidden nightspots that were trendier for their atmosphere and exclusivity.

His phone let out a low warble, indicating another text coming in from his girlfriend, asking him where he was. Angie's texts were getting more and more insistent and were escalating in their belligerence. He felt a mix of emotions, from anxiety to anger. He knew he'd promised her that he'd be home early. In fact, earlier, he taken a rider from La Guardia airport to midtown, and had he gone off the clock at that time, he would have made it home to his apartment in the Bronx in plenty of time. But the requests had kept coming. The ride sharing service was based on proximity, and for the past few hours, there'd come a string of ride requests that seemed too good to ignore. Now, here he was on a dark side street trying to find his last fare of the night. He wasn't concerned about the location. He'd picked up yuppies and hipsters in places like this for the past year. One of the security features of his online service was that profiles of the riders with pictures would show up on his phone, giving him an opportunity to accept or reject the engagement. The picture on his screen showed the face of a blonde woman in her mid-twenties, prettier than average with a history on the service of being prompt and being a frequent user. He pulled up to a curb outside the building and put his hybrid in park. He contemplated responding to Angie's text, but what could he say? He was two hours late already, and this fare wanted to go all the way uptown. Plus he knew if he responded, it would just prolong and escalate the fight later, when he got home.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of a shadow approaching the car. For a brief instant, he tensed. While not afraid, he wasn't stupid either. This was New York. Things happen. He relaxed as soon as caught sight of a wisp of blonde hair. The slight figure of a woman was walking rapidly to the car. Soon enough, there was tell-tale sound of the rear door opening and the car shifted slightly as the woman sat inside.

Haden tapped the screen of his phone, indicating that he'd picked up the rider and automatically inputting the destination into the app's GPS feature. He turned to face the passenger in the back.

"Please buckle up, miss." The shot echoed like an explosion in a phone booth. Haden Farber never saw it coming.

Castle wasn't normally an early riser. He'd like to play his procrastination with the alarm clock as part of his rich, playboy persona, but he hated getting up early. He appreciated the luxurious feel of his sheets, the comfort of a good bed, and the way a good night's slumber washed away the evening before. So, his normal habit had been to sleep in as much as possible. Granted, his partnership with Beckett had made his practice more infrequent. Let's face it, the good murders didn't happen in broad daylight, they happened under the cover the night and the past eight years had been punctuated with dozens of early morning phone calls indicating another murder for the detectives of the 12th Precinct to solve. He relished those moments, truth be told. At times, he found himself anticipating the calls, sleeping lightly and ready to move.

This morning was different. He'd been discharged from the hospital almost two weeks earlier. Sleep was elusive and he'd catch snatches of rest over the course of the night and invariably would resign himself to waking up. His mind had been wandering, replaying the final two minutes of the encounter with Caleb Brown on a continuous loop. At first, he wondered what he could have done. Could he have anticipated this turn of events and stopped it? He felt the shock of being shot, over and over again. Despite the fact that physically, he was healing, he often caught himself rubbing the fresh scar on his chest and feeling a touch of fire on the tips of his fingers where he touched. Then there was Beckett. Outwardly, she seemed none the worse for the wear. She'd remained conscious through the entire encounter. She was up and about, and had already gone back to work, running her precinct. But something was different. She was different. It was hard to pinpoint, but throughout the past year with the pursuit of LokSat, they'd both made really bad decisions when it came to their relationship. There was no doubt that their relationship had suffered, that something had been off.

Now, that Mason and Flynn were behind bars and Caleb Brown had been killed, Castle thought things would be different, but they weren't. Again, it was subtle, but he'd made Kate Beckett his sole reason for being for eight years. Three months in a coma had not changed that. If anything, he could pick it up like it was a neon sign in Times Square. He glanced over at her sleeping form next to him. For a brief moment, he felt the same surge of excitement and electricity that he'd had the first time he saw her. She lie on her side, her back to him, the covers pulled up to her shoulders. Her long hair was threaded down the pillow and sheet, seemingly perfectly in place despite the wild array that slumber it about. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered. It wasn't simply the fact that she was an attractive woman, but her beauty was always enhanced by her character, by who she was. The change in that character instantly dampened his energy. For the umpteenth time, he tried to figure out what was wrong. As always, that question slowly became, what had he done wrong?

He slid out bed slowly and quietly, trying not disturb her. He padded his way through the room and put his robe on, his bare feet silent on the dark wood floor. He passed out of the bedroom and into the main loft area. He still hadn't gotten used to the shock of the change. While he'd been in a coma, Martha had suggested to Beckett that it was time to change the look of the loft. It hadn't been for aesthetics or on some binge of interior design glory, but Beckett had been struggling staying at the loft while Castle was hospitalized. Everything had seemed to remind her of that day. So, eventually, she let Castle's mother have her way. Castle suspected it was a way for Martha to cope with events as well. When he walked into the living room, the sparse light of the early dawn was beginning to enter the floor to ceiling windows letting him see the barren landscape of an empty room. All of the furnishings, all of the wall hangings, his various knick knacks were gone, in storage somewhere. The room felt like he did, empty and hollow. He walked towards the kitchen slowly, his eyes moving side to side, remembering images of how it had been before. Not just the room, but how things had been with Beckett, before LokSat.

He got to kitchen and stopped at the counter. A sensor on the coffee maker recognized his face. He smiled, his inner gadget geek enjoying the fact that some brilliant person had incorporated facial recognition into the brewer, and soon enough a large mug of fresh coffee was in his hands. Absently, he took a sip of the coffee, but he was fixated on spot on the kitchen floor. The shadows from the rising sun on the skyscrapers bathed the floor in darkness. Yet, he could still see the image. Kate lying on the ground, breathing raspy, blood spilling on the wood, seeping into the seams. He could see it as clear as day. Even when fully lit, and assured that the best cleaning had been done, he could see the expanding pool of blood, as if the stain wasn't going away. The memory loop flashed in his head, replaying the episode. He flinched as he remembered being shot, and then he fixated on the spot in the kitchen where she lay. Guilt, sadness and loss permeated his body. He felt short of breath and wondered if his response to the LokSat episode had ruptured what he'd had with Beckett forever. He stood motionless, staring at the darkness, but seeing the blood on the wooden floor. That was how she found him.

"Castle?" Her voice brought him out of his stupor. He turned to face the entrance to the bedroom. He was startled. She was dressed, clipping her pistol to the waistline of her perfectly fitted suit. She crossed the room towards him.

"You're up early…" She reached him and kissed him on the cheek, and then took a brief glance at the coffee maker so that it could recognize her and start brewing her a cup.

The spot where she kissed him tingled. "I couldn't sleep." He caught the worried look in her eyes, but saw something else. She always seemed to be holding something back.

"Dr. Burke said he'd see you any time. " Dr. Carver Burke was the therapist who'd helped Beckett through her shooting five years earlier. Castle had seen him a while back to help jog his missing memory. Memories that had led to LokSat. He shuddered.

"I'm fine, Beckett." Castle was never a good liar, especially to Beckett, but she let it slide as he continued. "I'll see Dr. Burke soon enough." Anxious to get off the topic, he nodded to her suit. "You're dressed early. You going somewhere?"

Beckett held up her phone. "There's been a murder. Ryan and Espo are on it, but they need me to come down to the scene. Something about some jurisdictional problem with the 14th Precinct."

"Hang on, I'll be dressed in a second." He started moving towards the bedroom, but she stopped him with her hand on his chest, almost mindful to avoid touching the place where he was shot.

"You can't go, Castle." The miffed little boy look crossed his face. She lowered her head then raised her eyes to meet his. "You know the conditions of letting you out of the hospital were pretty straightforward. You can't be traipsing out to crime scenes just yet." She let a smile slip onto her lips. "Besides, you still have physical therapy this morning."

"You mean with Attila the Hun?" Inwardly he groaned. Physical therapy to help his body recover from the trauma of the wound and to work through the atrophy he'd suffered from being so long in a coma had been a daily, arduous and painful occurrence. Castle was convinced that the so called "physical therapist" named Brad had gotten his degree from the Spanish Inquisition. Plus, he didn't like how the twenty-something Brad with his Greek god looks, seemed to be getting on nicely with Alexis whenever she went with him to therapy.

"Come on, Beckett. I'm going stir crazy here. I need to get out."

"Castle, you need to be patient. Or at least be a good patient." He rolled his eyes at her attempt at humor. "You need to get through the therapy and," She hesitated, then continued. "you need to see Dr. Burke."

"I told you, I'm fine, Beckett."

"No, you're not. I hear you when you do sleep. Believe me, Castle, you can't let this slide. You have to address it. I know." Memories of the year after her shooting reverberated through the room. She'd needed Burke's help, more than she was willing to admit at the time.

"Not to mention, the designer is coming by today. You need to go over the final plan for this area." She saw his eyes hover over the spot in the kitchen. "Just make sure you don't pick out any more 'theme' décor."

"Come on Beckett. That space cowboy show was awesome. The design of the ship's bridge brings me serenity." He'd planned on turning the living room into a perfect replica of a space ship bridge while making the dining room into a manner similar to the crew's mess area on the show. Beckett and Martha had stopped that in its tracks.

She reached up with her hand and put it on his cheek. "Look, Castle, I know this is difficult. All of this, but we're going to be fine." She reached up and brushed his lips with hers. The hint of intimacy grew in intensity and they pushed the kiss into a stronger, more passionate one. He placed his cup on the counter and held her with both arms, pulling her into him and kissing her deeply. For that brief moment, it was right, it was normal. Then, like had happened so often lately, she pulled away seemingly a moment too soon, and Castle saw the wall go up. He looked at her, a question on his face, then he pulled back, either unready or unsure whether he should call her on it. Instead, his wall came up, manifested in his need to tell a joke to "relieve the tension".

"Okay, no themes, but I can't promise that the anti-gravity booth and climbing wall won't be added."

It was Beckett's turn to roll her eyes. "Do I need to send Martha over to supervise?"

Castle loved his mother, but the thought of her in "design mode" made him cringe. He shook his head.

"I'll behave."

She let out a chuckle. "Not hardly." The levity of the moment passed way too soon. "Look, Castle, I've got to go." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "I'll call later." She turned and left, leaving him standing in the empty room, alone with his thoughts.

In the past, when Kate Beckett approached a crime scene, she prepared herself mentally to face the horror that each murder would bring. She promised herself and the victim that she would serve justice. The anchor of her mother's murder held her steady to the commitment she made every victim. The boundaries of the location, bounded by reams of yellow tape seemed to be the line of demarcation for her focus and attitude. Now things had changed. This wasn't her crime scene, this wasn't her murder to solve. The change in perspective was still something she was trying to get used to. But that didn't even come close to the sense of loss and sadness she felt. For the past few years, she would visit these scenes with Castle. He'd bring her coffee, and they'd walk up together. The comfort, the sense of belonging, the sense rightness of his always being there with her had replaced her single-minded focus on justice. Castle had brought something to her that she'd never thought she'd experience. Not just the love or the relationship, but the sense that despite all of the depravities her job witnessed, having someone to be her beacon in the darkness helped her see beyond the desperation. Castle made her hope. She took a deep breath and walked towards the black sedan on the side of the cordoned street.

To outsiders, Beckett can come off as cold, but she knew that she'd never would have made this far and this long without the help of her friends. The foundation of her skills were, in part, based on being able to absolutely rely on a small group of people that were always there. There was Castle. That was a given, but as she approached the anthill of activity that accompanied a murder, she smiled as the familiar figures of her core investigative team hovered around the edges of the car. Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito stood next to Lanie Parish, the medical examiner. Ryan and Esposito were her core investigative team. They were tried and true, more than just colleagues, but friends who stood by her through thick and thin. Lanie had been her rock, someone who'd always been someone she could lean on and ask advice from. Lanie seemed to see right through her. She understood Beckett's vulnerability, but even more so, Lanie had no compunction calling Beckett out and pointing out uncomfortable realities that she needed to hear. Together, they made a formidable team, and there were hundreds of victims out there who have seen justice meted out on their behalf because of them.

Esposito saw her approaching and turned to face her. He had a shorter build, but muscular, with traces of silver starting to line his close cropped black hair. His tanned skin showed little signs of aging and he walked with a confidence and swagger that could only be found in combat veterans. He nodded to Beckett.

"Yo, Captain, glad you could come by."

Beckett smiled at him, memories of his doses of tough love and unconditional devotion to her sojourns into crusading momentarily flooding her memory. "Sergeant Esposito, anytime. What do you got?"

Esposito's promotion to sergeant had finally come through, and now, in addition to being a crack investigator, he had the responsibility of leading the detective shift for the 12th Precinct. Kate stole a look over at Ryan, wondering how the dynamics of the partnership between the two friends had changed, if at all. Of course, when she'd made captain, things weren't quite the same with her and the two detectives, but then again, she'd always been the lead detective. This was different. She made a mental note to keep an eye on things, again.

"Haden Farber, white male, aged twenty five. Street sweeper found the vehicle this morning with the driver slumped against the steering wheel with a lot of blood. Farber is a driver for Rydes."

"The ride sharing service?" Kate asked, almost unnecessarily. Esposito ignored, knowing full well that this was part of how Beckett processed data from a crime scene.

"Yeah." Just then, Ryan, the other part of the dynamic duo walked up, a cell phone in clear plastic evidence bag in his gloved hands.

"Hey Cap. I just went through the victim's cell phone. It looks like he had fare ordered sometime around 2 AM."

The third member of the investigative team walked up. Lanie Parish eyed her friend carefully, her eyes narrowing, as if she were reading the tumult of thoughts cascading through Beckett's head that had nothing to do with the case. It was all Kate could do to ignore her stare. Lanie gave an almost imperceptible shoulder shrug and joined the conversation.

"Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the head, shot from the back seat. Small caliber round, a .22 or at most a .38. There's powder burns on his temple, so the shooter was pretty close. Time of death matches what Ryan found on the cell phone, sometime between 1:45 and 2:30 last night."

Ryan wrote notes from Lanie's revelations in his notebook and then continued. "We have a line on the name on the last fare, or at least who ordered the last fare. The profile is registered to a Shannon Culber. She has an address up in midtown, east." Ryan tilted his head over towards Esposito. "Sarge here was wondering what she was doing all the way down here."

Espo gave his partner a glare. "Bro, what'd I tell you about the 'Sarge' thing?"

"But you're the Sarge, sarge. Are you telling me not to call you 'Sarge'?"

"Knock it off, bro. We got work to do. Captain doesn't want to hear you complain how you missed passing the sergeant's exam by one question."

Ryan turned a small shade of red. "It was a trick question…"

Beckett sighed. There was something going on between Ryan and Esposito that she had to handle. She'd been so fixated on her own thoughts, she'd missed how much altogether. Usually their banter was light hearted, just simple teasing. There was an undercurrent of tension that she'd have to address. In the meantime,

"Guys!" They recognized the authority tinged with exasperation in her voice. "This is all well and good, but why am I here? You guys seem to have things in hand."

Esposito passed one more glare at Ryan and then faced Beckett. "See, the thing is this street is the boundary between us and the 14th Precinct. The murder scene is on our side of the street, but the address in the GPS is for a location on the 14th side of the street. Their captain is giving us a hard time about interviewing the tenants of the address."

Inwardly, Kate groaned. It probably was a good thing that Castle hadn't come. Esposito continued. "He's over there at his command post." He pointed to a cluster of police vehicles at the end of the street.

She nodded. "Anything else?"

Ryan responded. "How's Castle?"

"He's going crazy. I think he's climbing the walls." She didn't feel the need to inform them of Castle's struggles with nightmares, nor how she found him staring at the floor this morning.

"I can only imagine." Ryan looked over at Esposito, sharing a quick thought with his partner. "You know, if he wanted to come out with us on this case, we'd be more than happy to have him."

"Thanks, Kevin. I'm sure he'd appreciate it, but I think he needs to work on his rehab first. He might be pushing himself more than he thinks he can." Ryan shrugged and Esposito turned back to the crime scene.

"We'll finish up here, then go to talk to next of kin." Beckett nodded and the two detectives moved off. After a moment, she noticed Lanie still standing next to her, looking at her.

"What?" The word came out harsher than she wanted. Lanie was unmoved.

"Kate, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

Lanie, never one to take evasion from Beckett, pursed her lips together. "You know what I mean. You need to talk it out."

"Castle's not ready to talk about it, Lanie. He's trying to deal with everything and make sense of it."

Lanie stared at her friend and shook her head. "You know full well that I'm not talking about Castle. When are you going to deal with what's bugging you?"

Beckett felt an involuntary rush of breath. Leave it Lanie to call her out. "I'm not sure…things are just complicated right now."

"Girl, they're going to get more complicated the more you ignore it. You'd think you'd learned your lesson by now, but Kate Beckett, super cop, has got it all handled." Lanie saw the hurt in her friend's eyes and she softened her tone. "Kate, you know you come to me. But you know you can go to Castle. How do you know that's not what he needs too? You two have been crazy about each other since day one, and have been as pigheaded about hurting each other's feelings just as much. You need to figure it out."

"I know, Lanie. I will. I promise." This time Lanie didn't sense her friend was shining her on. A figure separated from the 14th Precinct command post and started walking towards them. Lanie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You were right when you said things are keep getting more complicated." She looked up at Beckett and put her hand on her shoulder. "You going to be okay?"

Beckett nodded and Lanie went back to processing the body in the car. A tall, well-dressed man approached her, a captain's shield firmly affixed to the left breast pocket of his custom tailored suit. She drew herself up and closed the distance to him.

"My detectives told me that the captain of the 14th was giving them a hard time."

The man smiled a dazzling, ghostly familiar smile and reached his hand to shake hers.

"Hello, Kate. It's been a long time."

Captain Tom Demming, commander of the 14th Precinct, one time ace robbery detective in the 12th Precinct and former lover of Kate Beckett was on the scene.

A/N: So, my original plan was to post these chapters as if they were self-contained Castle episodes centered around a case of the week. I have found that this plan is overly ambitious, and takes a lot to write to ensure that I make sure that the cases make sense. So, I'm going to keep with the case format as part of two or three chapters, with interludes between cases. Also, although I do plan out chapters, I haven't had too much time for much editing beyond spell check and a brief once over. Please forgive some of my grammatical errors in advance. Until next time...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Beckett thought that seeing Demming would be strange for her. In fact, when she'd heard that she'd have to deal with him on this case, she'd had a sense of dread. Yet, seeing him, even with the memories they'd shared had no effect. Instead, her mind wandered back to a time when she and Castle had argued about her obsession with her mother's death. There were times when Castle could cut straight to the heart of a matter.

"You hid yourself in your mother's death, Kate. Diving into these nowhere relationships with men you don't love." She'd been so angry with him at that time. "You could be happy, Kate. You deserve to be happy."

Back then, they'd both had a hard time expressing their true feelings. Castle never completed the unspoken thought. She could be happy, with him. When she thought on it, that was the crux of the matter. There'd been nothing wrong with Demming. He was kind. He was caring. They'd shared common approaches to the job and a certain sense of justice that only two committed guardians of the law could share. And that was why they were completely incompatible. Being the same also meant that they had no place to grow, no place to help each other reach outside the walls of their shared world. When she thought back why she loved Castle, there were so many reasons. She'd had no problem telling Mason that she was crazy for Castle, but it was much more than that. She would literally die if anything happened to him because Castle made her see outside the world she'd created after her mother's death. His perspective, even his penchant for wild theories opened up a life of hope and possibility. Castle made her more. She smiled to herself. In her sessions with Dr. Burke, she'd finally come to the realization that she wanted to be more. The crux of it was that she could have only gotten there with Castle. Now, the reality of what she had done clouded her mind. She knew she'd been pulling away from him. Guilt wracked her mind and her heart. The advice was there. She knew, in her heart, that she had taken a risk pursuing LockSat, and intellectually, she'd been willing to sacrifice everything for justice. But did she really understand it?

She knew Castle wouldn't give up. Even worse, she knew he'd somehow blame himself. Yet she continued her crusade, and that eventually ended up with Castle lying on the floor in a pool of blood. No one could tell her otherwise. Who was to say that she wouldn't put him there again? What if some other injustice needed to be put right, and like Castle said, it was a part of her, who she was? Maybe, just maybe, she was toxic. Maybe, she was bad for him?

Her musings had her off in her mind, and she missed what Demming was saying. "I'm sorry, Tom, what'd you say?"

Demming looked at her with a confused look on his face. With a slight shrug, he smiled. "I said, how's Castle?"

The news of Caleb Brown's ambush of Castle and Beckett had shocked the NYPD. Combined with the shootout at the CIA black site in downtown and the arrest of LockSat, the NYPD was seeing conspiracies all around the city. Beckett was a legend in the force, her ability to tease out and find vast corruption, first with Bracken and now with Mason heightened the sense of brotherhood around the force. Demming was no exception.

"He's getting better." A far off gaze permeated her face as a fresh wave of guilt hit her. Then she steeled herself. "But, he's still got a long way to go."

Demming nodded. Some hidden thought, probably based on his intimate past with her, passed through his mind. He knew her better than most. She was reserved. She was holding back, but what else was new? The best bet was to proceed with the business at hand.

"Looks like we have a bit of a quandary here." Demming nodded over to the car parked on the street.

Grateful for his transition, Beckett nodded. "I hear you're keeping my detectives from doing their job on a murder investigation."

"Kate, there's more to this than just a murder." Demming hadn't meant to diminish that fact that there'd been a murder. Immediately, he saw a flash of anger in Beckett's eyes. Getting justice for the victim was something that was near and dear to who Beckett was. Given what had happened over the last year, Demming was well aware at how driven she could be.

"Just a murder?"

Demming held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean it that way." He took a deep breath. "Look, the thing is that private club," He pointed over to the door, across the street from the murder scene, "is ground zero for a huge money laundering investigation from the organized crime unit. Robbery, OC, the Justice Department: We've all spent over a year trying to get in there."

"You think my murder is related to your investigation?" Her mind was processing fresh avenues for Esposito and Ryan to pursue in the case.

"I don't know." Demming put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. "Look, let me and my guys go in and conduct the interviews. We've been in there a couple of times and I know the owners."

"Who are they?"

"Serbs. They're smart, and scary as hell, but they do have a code. If they don't have anything to do with what happened to your victim, they'll cooperate."

"And if they do?"

Demming smiled. "Then that'll let us know even more." He held out his hand. "You know I'll do this right, Kate. I'm on your side. Let me do my job, okay, Captain Beckett? You're not alone in this."

Beckett hesitated and then grasped his hand in hers. "I want full details of your interviews. Don't leave me hanging on this, Captain Demming." Her voice was playful, yet Demming shook his head, because underneath, he knew that she'd be holding him to his word. He watched her walk away, a small hint of regret over what might have been, then he nodded to one of his detectives and he headed for the club.

Castle hated physical therapy. Brad, his therapist, seemed to excel at generating pain in exceedingly unique ways. His joints ached and his muscles strained as he worked to gain feeling and use of his body while it recovered from the trauma of his injury and the lethargy of his coma. Be that as it may, he kept going, every day for two reasons. One, the workouts blocked his mind from the darkness that permeated him when he thought of Kate. He obsessed over what he did wrong, what he needed to do better, and no matter what he did, she still seemed to pull away. The pain, the achiness, they all helped him forget during every ninety minute session. He'd never let Brad know, though. The man was a sadist.

The other reason he looked forward to the sessions was that it got him out of the loft. He was, by nature, a wanderer. He loved exploring the city. Half the fun of tagging along with Beckett in the beginning was that it gave him a chance to get out and see people. Sitting around all day in the loft made him antsy and listless. Today was even better, because neither Alexis nor Martha had accompanied him to therapy this time. His mother was meeting with producers for a revival of the Glass Menagerie on Broadway and Hayley and Alexis were working overtime on a case for his PI firm. This was the first time since he'd left the hospital that he was out and about, and unaccompanied. There was no way he was going back home. He needed to wander. He needed to think. Most of all, he needed to figure out what the hell was wrong with him and Beckett. He left the doctor's office and hailed a cab. For the first time in a long time, he was on his own.

The law firm was tucked into an older converted brownstone, a couple of blocks west of Times Square. Esposito and Ryan climbed the stairs to the front door and stopped. Neither had really said anything since the little flare up at the crime scene. Ryan finally broke the awkward silence.

"Look, Javy, I'm sorry man. I don't know what came over me." His partner and friend allowed his angry expression hold for a long second then sighed.

"Kev, man, I know things are tight. You and Jenny with the new baby, the whole family situation. "Esposito stepped a little closer to Ryan. "But, bro. I'm not the enemy here. I'm on your side."

"You're right. I know you're right. I just got a little jealous, I guess."

Esposito nodded and pat Ryan on the shoulder. "Then what are you going to do about it? You can still take the test. It's still out there. Just get out and do it." Esposito grinned. "I'll help you study. That's what sergeants do."

"Bite me." The smile on Ryan's face cut the harshness out of the criticism. Then Ryan faced the door. "Well, this where this Shannon Culber works. I guess we'd better go in and do our job, Sarge?"

Esposito chuckled, "Yeah, let's go."

They walked into a small reception area that looked like a converted living room. There were antique couches arrayed against the wall, interspersed between a number of bookshelves laden with numerous legal books bound in rich leather covers. There was a large, ornate desk on one side of the room behind which a stunning brunette sat, keying away madly on a keyboard, her eyes glued to a monitor set to one side. When the door opened, she turned to face the two detectives.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

Esposito took the lead, holding up his gold shield for her to see. "I'm Sergeant Esposito and this is Detective Ryan of the NYPD. We're looking for Shannon Culber?"

The woman gave their badges careful study and nodded. "Hang on a moment, I'll see if she can see you." She picked up a nearby desk phone and dialed a number. After a moment, she looked up to face the pair.

"She'll be out in a moment. Please have a seat." She nodded towards one of the couches. The two men wandered over to the couch and sat down. After a moment, a petite blond woman, dressed in an obviously expensive silk suit came into the room and approached them. Ryan and Esposito stood and held out their credentials.

"Shannon Culber?" Esposito dropped his shield and let it hang around his neck on its chain. "I'm Sergeant Esposito, and this is Detective Ryan from the 12th Precinct. I was wondering if we could talk to you about the Ryde you ordered last night?"

A surprised look came over her face. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. I didn't order a Ryde last night."

Ryan checked his open notebook. "Ms. Culber, there was an incident late last night, which involved a Ryde driver, and the profile of the fare he was picking up was you."

"What time was this?" She asked, obviously perplexed.

"Sometime around two this morning." Esposito responded.

"That's impossible. I was here working on a case until around midnight and shared a cab with a couple of the other attorneys uptown. I was home by twelve thirty." She quickly reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her smart phone. After a moment, her face creased and she held out her phone. "That's odd, my Ryde profile says that I ordered a Ryde, but I'm telling you, I didn't."

"Can someone verify all of this?" Esposito's gut told him she was telling the truth, and he hoped he didn't sound accusatory. She nodded.

"There's the people I rode home with, and my building has a night doorman and security guard. Both saw me come in. I can get their names and numbers if you want." Ryan thanked her and within a few moments, both police officers were back on the sidewalk.

"Well that was a dead end." Esposito grumbled.

Ryan absently nodded while he looked over his notes. "Maybe not. It was obvious her account was hacked, so maybe Vikram can pick up a trace?"

Esposito nodded and they returned to their car, and back to the station.

Castle's cab dropped him front of the old bookstore. He paid the fare and looked inside the glass panes of the store's front. There was a mock cover of his next Nikki Heat novel on display, alongside a life sized cardboard cutout of him. The release of the book had been delayed while he'd been in a coma, but news of his recovery and release had prompted his publisher to rush to launch the book to take advantage of the wave of public sympathy for the tragedy of his shooting.

"And Beckett's…" He thought to himself. He was relieved that the shots that struck Beckett had missed anything vital. She'd bled out, a lot, but both times the bullet had entered into a spot that did not cause her too much damage. One had struck a metal clasp on her leather jacket, and had been deflected just enough to miss her spleen. He hadn't been so lucky. Caleb's shot had struck him in the right breast and ricocheted off one of his ribs and broken into fragments. One piece entered his lung and he'd immediately begun to bleed into the open cavity. Another piece spun through his upper chest and had nicked his aorta ever so slightly, causing even more bleeding in his chest. If Alexis had found him a few minutes later, he would have died in the loft. As it was, he'd had to be revived more than once in the course of the trauma team's efforts to save him. The coma had been his body's response to the brutality of his wounds.

He sighed and stared blankly at the store window. Then he turned around and crossed the street and went into the park nearby. The swings were still there, and being a school day, there weren't a lot of kids playing. He sat down on an open swing and thought.

What had he done? Why was Beckett pulling away from him? He pondered the last year. It had not been a banner year for him or for Beckett. This day, last year, he hadn't a care in the world. He remembered waking up and giving Kate her send off to her new job as Captain. The silver bracelet, engraved with their promise, "Always", had been a nice touch, he thought. Then Kate got the mysterious call, the one from Vikram, and their whole life together changed. He'd been angry. He called her out on it, and even after reading him in on the LokSat investigation, he still felt like he was on the outside looking in. He'd give anything to have that day back, her first day as captain.

He must have done something wrong and he had to make it right. Life without her was unfathomable, but things as they currently stood were untenable. Two previous marriages was enough experience to tell him that he and Beckett were on an inevitable path towards destruction, and he wouldn't let that happen. He straightened his shoulders and stood up. He walked over to the street and hailed a cab and headed uptown.

The precinct was buzzing. Beckett's door was open and she was perusing one piece of an endless stream of paperwork that had become her professional life. She was reading one more report, but hardly seeing it, her mind wandering to Castle and the darkness she felt in ruining his life. That's what it boiled down to. She felt like a parasite inside, like she'd taken so much from him and only returned misery. She let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead with her hand. She was at a point that she didn't quite know what to do. Her broodings were becoming longer and even sadder. She couldn't imagine life without Castle, but what right did she had to prolong the misery that she brought him? She'd been selfish. Her crusade for justice had consumed her and overwhelmed even the light that had been what she and Castle were together. Who was to say it wouldn't happen again? The question haunted her heart, but no plan of action was forthcoming. Thankfully, a knock on her door rescued her from her sadness.

"Captain?" Esposito stood in the doorway. How long had he been there? His expression was one of concern, as if he knew she were struggling with some personal demon. But besides being a detective in her precinct, he was her friend. Esposito had helped her through the darkest times and he'd always been there. Just like he was now. She smiled and waved him in her office.

"How'd it go with Shannon Culber?"

Esposito stood in front of her desk. "That was a dead end. Her account had been hacked. Her alibi checked out, she'd never been down there."

"Have you talked to the girlfriend yet?" Beckett's mind was focused on the case.

"She's on her way in now, and we've asked the Rydes coordinator to come in and fill us in on Farber's work history, maybe give us a clue on anyone that he might have had a run in with." Beckett nodded and at that moment, Ryan popped his head in.

"I had Vikram try to back trace the hack on Shannon Culber's Ryde account." He held up his hand towards Esposito. "No luck on the source. They really covered their tracks. But, something interesting did come up. I checked into the payment history to see if I could trace the payment for the Ryde. You see, payment is set aside to reserve the fare."

"You found who paid the money?" Esposito was getting impatient. Sometimes it took a little while for Ryan to get to the point.

"No. The interesting thing is that the payment was made by botcoin, not dollars." Beckett's eyes widened.

"Botcoins? That's a little shady, isn't it?"

Ryan nodded. "It can be, but there are lots of legitimate businesses taking them for services. The thing is, they're completely peer to peer, but heavily encrypted. Conceivably, if we could backtrack to the source, we might see who hacked the Ryde account."

Unconsciously, Beckett bit on her lower lip, as she processed the newest bit of information. "Botcoins can be used in criminal activities, though. Black market purchases, darknet transactions, money laundering…" She hesitated and then looked up at the detectives. "Demming mentioned that the location where Farber was killed might be a front for a Serbian organized crime ring, with a specific tie to money laundering."

"Well, I did a check on our victim's Ryde pay account." Ryan pulled out his notebook. "A lot of his fares, almost all of them, were paid via botcoin."

"Maybe there's a link?" Esposito's head was swimming.

Beckett nodded. "Well, now we have more to ask his boss when he comes in, and we definitely need to talk to the girlfriend." She tapped her pencil on her desk. "I'll call Demming and see how his interviews went."

Esposito nodded. "We're on it."

Beckett watched them leave and then turned to reach for her desk phone. She caught herself for a quick moment. Getting into the details of this case, if only for a brief second, had made her forget about her guilt and sadness. She shook her head and dialed Demming's number.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I travel for work and the past week has been crazy. I will try to get more out. One thing I'll say, I'm big on Caskett. This story won't introduce temptations or others for Beckett and Castle to contemplate. I'm trying to examine what the consequences of Season 8 were on their relationship, how they repaired and finally how they got to the happy ending. Thanks for your patience, and please, feedback is always appreciated. One other thing, I tried to use a different term for an online digital currency, but the real term gets automatically edited out by the system, hence "botcoins".


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Castle stood outside the door to his private investigator's office. He felt a slight tinge of nervousness combined with a bit of reluctance brought on by the little voice in his head telling him that he was going to get scolded by his daughter for not being at home and resting. The truth of the matter was that he was a ball of nervous energy. He liked being in motion and the thought of being back at the house was something he just couldn't deal with at the moment. Instead, he figured he'd head to his office and catch up on the caseload. He appreciated what Hayley and Alexis had managed to do with the practice over the last year, but obviously, he needed to make sure things were going well. With the renovations at the loft, combined with how behind he was with his deadline for the next Nikki Heat novel, he needed to see how much in the hole the finances were for the private investigator firm. He adjusted the front of his sports coat and grabbed the door handle, and walked in.

The foyer had changed, with the entry opening into a much smaller, closed off space that looked like the waiting area for an attorney's office. There was a long counter bisecting the original space and the area behind the counter had several modern workspaces clustered around in an open, "bullpen" arrangement. There was a well-dressed, thin young man seated behind the counter, tapping on a keyboard and studying a large monitor intently. He had close-cropped blonde hair, a headset was firmly attached to his right ear and he was speaking in low, muted tones to someone on the phone. The man turned to face Castle and smiled.

"Can I help you, sir?" Castle looked around, a bewildered expression on his face. He was immediately struck by the amount of noise emanating from the space. There were nicely dressed men and women sitting at the workstations behind the reception area, and all seemed to be in motion. The whole place was a hive of activity, with phones ringing and people moving back and forth to different places against the wall that held office machines and file cabinets. It reminded him of the detective area at the 12th Precinct on a busy Saturday night. After a moment, the young man spoke again, and this time Castle heard him.

"Can I help you sir?" The man had a patient smile on his face. "If you don't have an appointment, I'm sure I can get someone to talk to you in a few minutes."

"What?" Castle's eye were fixed on an impressive, but understated metal sign on a far wall that read "Castle Investigations, Inc." He kept pinching himself repeatedly, wondering if he'd stepped into another alternate world dream sequence.

"Um, I'm looking for Alexis." He finally muttered.

The receptionist gave him an apologetic shake of the head. "I'm sorry, sir, but Ms. Castle is not available at the moment. Is there someone else that can help you?"

"Not available? Ok, I'll just head back to my office and talk to Hayley." Just then, a look of recognition struck the receptionist and he bolted up out of his seat.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Welcome, Mr. Castle." He walked around the counter and stretched his hand out and shook Castle's hand vigorously. "I'm James. James Conner. I'm the main receptionist here at Castle Investigations."

"Receptionist?" Immediately, Castle's mind raced with escalating dollar signs.

"Oh yes, I make the appointments and coordinate all the meetings between the clients and our investigators."

"Investigators?" Castle's eyes almost rolled completely back into his skull, as if he'd been hit in the forehead by a large bag of cash that was on its way out of a nearby window.

"Yes sir. We have five full time detectives and we'll probably hire another five or so by the end of the year."

"Five?" His head swooned a bit and a little drop of sweat formed on his forehead.

"What are you doing here, Castle? Shouldn't you be at home?" Hayley Shipton was standing in a doorway, which presumably led to where his old office had been. She walked towards the counter and nodded to James then reached over and embraced Castle with a firm, but gentle hug.

"I…, but…." Castle stumbled over the words, his hands moving rapidly as he pointed around the room. Then he looked down at Hayley. "Five?"

Hayley smiled. "Probably ten by the end of the year. Let's face it, we're busy." She grabbed his sleeve and led him towards the office door. "Alexis and I have made some changes."

"I'll say." Castle peeked around the corner and saw that the office extended well past the original confines of the old office. They'd obviously expanded. He felt another wave of panic hitting him, then his head stopped as he looked into an open doorway further into the office.

"Are those drones?" He turned to face Hayley. "We have drones?" Endless possibilities sped through his brain, and looking back at the room, he saw it seemed to be filled with all types of gear and gadgets and computers. "You hired Q? That's awesome!"

"Later. You can play with the toys later." She laughed at the boy-like happiness on Castle's face. He seemed completely dismayed when she pulled him into the office.

At least his office hadn't changed much. His desk was pretty much as it had been, and the entrance to the panic room was still in place. Off to the side, two ornate desks had been wedged into the space, and behind one of them, a beautiful redheaded woman, with fine porcelain skin and rich green eyes seemed engrossed in a sheaf of papers on top of her desk. When she looked up when they entered, her eyes sparkled and a bright, cheerful grin spread on her face. She rose and sped towards Castle, crushing him in a hug.

"Daddy!" Alexis pulled away for a moment and looked at him. "How are you feeling? Are you supposed to be out?" A momentary pang of anxiety hit Castle, but was wiped away when she smiled. "You look so much better."

"Thanks, honey. I feel a lot better."

"Your visits to Brad must be doing the trick."

"And now I feel queasy…" Castle muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Alexis heard him, and honestly, she loved tweaking her father's insecurities when she could, then again, Brad did have a physical therapist's physique.

"I said, it hasn't been easy." Ever quick on his feet, Castle recovered and gestured around the office. "You two have been busy."

Alexis beamed. "Well, we'd already been getting so many cases before…" She hesitated. Alexis had been the one to find Beckett and Castle's gravely wounded bodies lying on the floor last May, and the memory immediately brought a sense of dread to her eyes.

Hayley stepped forward. "Rick, we decided to make a go of things. Let's face it, without LokSat to worry about, we simply had no choice to expand." She nodded over to Alexis. "And your daughter has a real talent for casework and business." The former MI-6 agent leveled her gaze at Castle. "You've no idea the publicity that came from what happened to you. Frankly, it started as something to keep us from thinking of you lying there in a coma, but it grew so fast."

Castle nodded slowly then looked quickly at Alexis. "But what about school? Columbia? I'm not sure I want my daughter to be a drop out."

The old Alexis returned and rolled her eyes. "I'm still finishing up school. I took some extra summer classes and I'm on track to graduate in December." She looked over at Hayley. "Grams and Hayley insisted that I finish."

Rick sighed in relief and shook his head in amazement. "So, how much in the hole is all this setting us back?"

Alexis pulled a sheet of paper off of her desk and handed it to her father. He glanced at it and then caught himself looking again. The dollar figures on the sheet astounded him.

"This is more money than I made on my first two Nikki Heat books." He exhaled after a moment. He looked at the two women in amazement. "All this from finding lost cats and chasing cheating husbands?"

Hayley laughed, her brown eyes twinkling at him. "There's no doubt that there's profit in infidelity, but no, we've graduated to more lucrative pursuits." Hayley settled down onto a small settee alongside a wall. "We get called in on high end burglaries, industrial counter espionage, insurance scams and such."

Alexis jumped in. "We just signed a consulting contract with the NYPD, to assist on some of their more challenging cases." She shared a glance with Hayley, who nodded. Alexis continued. "We help Ryan and Esposito from time to time, but they're family, so we don't charge them."

Castle wondered why helping Esposito and Ryan would be such a secret. Hayley continued. "In fact, we hire Kevin for some moonlighting gigs from time to time. You know, for surveillance or consulting. I think it helps with his cash flow, what with having two kids at home and all."

Rick was glad to hear that. Ryan and Esposito were like brothers to him, and helping Ryan was always on his mind, and doing it this way didn't make it seem like it was a handout.

"You remember those two strapping gentlemen we had around here back when we were hiding from LokSat?" Hayley asked. Castle nodded.

"Well, they've helped us get into another part of the business, which is the most lucrative by far." Castle thought for a moment and then clapped his hands together.

"We have mercenaries? That's awesome, we're a PMC! Have we overthrown any dictators yet? Have we stolen pirate gold from a cartel?" Rick's writer's whimsy was in full tilt.

"Easy there, "Dogs of War"." Hayley laughed. "We're not a private military contractor. We're not fighting in wars or anything of the sort. We mostly employ them for personal protection of VIPs and security threat assessments for companies and wealthy individuals. We've only just started, but we've gotten some big contracts and some help from some old friends."

"Your former employers, perhaps?" The thought of assisting MI-6 had Castle hearing the strains of the James Bond theme playing in his head.

Hayley cut him off abruptly. "No. Definitely not. I will never have anything to do with them again." The scars of what her former agency had done to her old partner were still raw in Hayley's brain.

Alexis interjected to allow Hayley time to collect herself. "Actually, Dad, Sara's dad has hired us to do a review of the security of his company's sites, worldwide. It's the contract that put us on the map."

Anwar Al-Masri was a rich Egyptian businessman whose daughter had been swept up when Alexis had been kidnapped by enemies of Castle's father. At first, it had been thought that Sara had been the target, especially when her hired bodyguard had been killed trying to prevent the attempt. The memory of the bodyguard's sacrifice sobered Rick's exuberance, given that his firm, no. This was Hayley and Alexis at work. Their firm was now engaged in VIP protection.

"That's amazing. What you two have done here is beyond my wildest expectations." Castle said.

"Not to mention the cool toys, right dad?" Alexis joked.

"Not to mention the cool toys." Castle savored the moment then a thought hit him. "Wait a minute, the kid up front is an operator too?"

"We don't call them operators, Rick." Hayley was back to her former, coquettish self. "We have associates. And no, James is not an associate, he's our administrative assistant."

Alexis smiled broadly. "Gram sent him to us. He's an actor, but he needed some work until his play opened. He's going to play Mowgli in an off Broadway production of the Jungle Book."

Castle jerked his thumb in the general direction of the front desk. "That scrawny, pale, blonde haired kid is going to play Mowgli? No wonder it's off Broadway."

"Be nice, Dad. He's actually quite good and he's great around here."

Castle nodded, then walked over to his desk. Everything was as he left it before…. He sat down at his desk. "Well, what can I do? I thought you might need my help, but it looks like you've got everything in hand." Hayley and Alexis noted the slightly crestfallen look on his face and Alexis nodded towards her partner.

Hayley stood up, and walked over to the front of Rick's desk. "We can have our case coordinator give you a full briefing on what we're up to tomorrow." The disappointment on Castle's face deepened. She continued. "However, we are working on something for Ryan and Esposito. A Rydes driver was murdered last night, and there were some strange things in the finances."

Castle's eyes perked up. "A murder?"

"Easy Rick, we're not investigating the murder, we're looking at the finances. It's not sexy, but it's definitely interesting.

"Anything. I'd love to help my boys out." And Beckett too, thought Rick. Maybe this was a way for him to connect to his wife. After all, there was nothing like a good, old fashioned murder to bring a husband and wife together. "Where do we start?"

Hayley crooked her finger and started for the door. "Follow me."

She led him to the new part of the expanded office. He caught a brief glance inside the gadget room and resolved himself to spend some time in there. There were so many things to touch. They made their way deeper into the office, past more open cubicles and through a cacophony of activity that only deepened as they walked farther.

"This is so cool." Castle blurted. There were people standing in front of electronic wallboards adorned with case details and evidence or with topographical maps of cities. It really was like owning a James Bond movie, even with the British-accented MI-6 agent included.

Hayley shook her head and finally stopped at a small, dark alcove. "Here we are. Sarah, I'd like you meet someone."

There was a small desk nestled in the space. On the wall, there was a bank of computer monitors stacked side by side and on top of each other, a total of six. A woman with short, dark hair was sitting at a keyboard in front of the monitors. She turned and stood, but had an annoyed look on her face.

"I really don't have time for meet and greet, Hayley." She said in a huff. She was tall, almost Rick's height. She had on a worn, black dress, with white leggings and a battered pair of combat boots. Her skin was pale, and what little makeup was on did nothing to perk up her pale skin. She had on a thick, wool cardigan sweater over her dress, and seeing it made Castle realize how cold it was back in this area. Obviously, temperatures were kept low due to the vast array of technology on this end of the building.

Hayley smiled. "Rick, this is Sarah Antoinette. Sarah, this is Richard Castle." Hayley's voice lowered to a whisper. "You know, the fellow whose name is on the checks you bring home? So be nice."

Sarah looked over at Castle, a decidedly unimpressed look on her face. "Huh, I guess you made it."

Despite himself, Castle let out a chuckle. "Pleased to meet you Sarah." Her attitude was actually very refreshing. Here was someone that wasn't walking on eggshells around him in some way or shape.

Hayley looked at Rick. "Sarah is our forensic accountant and computer whiz."

"Better than you?" Castle asked playfully.

"Better than me." Hayley turned to Sarah. "Sarah, can you give Castle a run through what you're working on for Ryan and Esposito."

Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed. "Sure." She sat back down at her desk and her fingers flew across her mouse and keyboard, as the graphs and images flickered on the myriad of screens.

"I've been trying to back track the source of the of the botcoin payment for the fare that got Haden Farber to his location."

"Any luck?" Castle concentrated on the figures on the screen.

"Nope." Sarah was obviously someone used to getting answers quickly. She didn't hide her frustration well. "I've got a trace going, so we'll see."

Castle's shoulders drooped slightly, then Sarah spoke again. "The thing is, while I was looking, I found some interesting things in the botcoin history for Rydes." She brought up another screen and pointed a finger at a meandering line on a graph. Castle studied it and whistled.

"How long has that been going on?"

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "As long as they've been in business."

Castle turned to Hayley. "That's not good. We'd better tell Ryan. He's going to want to know this."

"We can call from my office." Hayley said, but Castle shook his head.

"No need. I'll just head over and tell him myself." Castle's motives were obvious to Hayley. Anything to get back to the 12th, she figured. Who was she to deny him that simple pleasure?

"Ok, Rick. Meanwhile, Sarah here will keep digging and try to get us a source on the payment." Rick nodded and turned to leave. Before he did, he looked at Sarah.

"Great job on this."

Without turning to face him, she mumbled. "Whatever."

As Rick and Hayley walked to the front doors, he whispered in her ear. "I think she likes me."

A/N: So among my readers, is a teenager whose opinions I value very much. Part of her feedback is that there needs to be more dialogue. And she's right. Part of Castle's charm is the repartee between characters, especially Castle's lack of self control on letting the first thing on his mind come out of his mouth. As a writer, I sometimes get hung up on the inner monologue, what a particular character is thinking. I'll try to get closer to the interactions that made Castle what it was. Thanks for reading, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I truly do respond and alter course based on feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Beckett sat at her desk and stared at the lined form in front of her without really seeing it. She twirled the pen in her fingers, and tapped the end of it from time to time, as her brain raced as she thought about Castle. Her whole life since the death of her mother had centered around her ability to focus on a single objective, a single point on the horizon. No matter what the distraction, what made her a great detective and a great police officer was that she was able to put on the blinders and maintain her view of the objective. That all changed with Castle. For some reason, he had a way to break her out of her focus, to see the world around her and to entertain the notion that there were other possibilities to her set, logic-based preconceived ways of thinking.

Castle always looked for the story, and beyond that, the story that made the most sense. Even when she'd thought she had the narrative right on a case, if it didn't make sense to Castle, he'd keep digging, keep questioning until he found a story that made sense. It would exasperate her from time to time, but more often than not, he'd be right. Her problem was that her story, if she looked at it, was not a good one.

Her narrative, on the surface, was about justice. Justice for the victims of the murders she investigated. Justice for her mother. Justice for the weak who were victims of the powerful. Justice for her AG team. The list went on and on and on. But the surface story wasn't what bothered her, because to her, the real story wasn't about justice, but about obsession. When was justice complete? There always seemed to be the next dragon to slay; Vulcan Simmons, Lockwood, Bracken, LokSat… Each time, she'd felt like she was finished, and yet, each time that focus would overwhelm everything else, even what she felt for Castle, and that was her sin. She knew, beyond anything else, that no matter what she did, Castle would follow. He'd "walk into a tornado" for her. She KNEW that. It was fact, plain and simple, and yet she would follow her obsession. This time, it almost got Castle killed. It almost got everyone she knew killed. The well of guilt in her chest was consuming her. It was bad enough that she felt guilty for dragging everyone into the LokSat mess. The worst part of all this was that there was lingering doubt in her mind that if another dragon reared its head, she wasn't sure if she wouldn't do it all over again. Maybe she didn't deserve to be happy. Maybe, because of who she was, she didn't deserve Castle.

"Captain?" The knock on her door startled her out of her reverie. The papers on her desk came into focus and she was back in the moment. Esposito stood outside her door.

He looked at her, concern in his eyes. She realized that she had no idea how long he'd been standing there. He stepped inside and lowered his voice an octave.

"Kate, are you all right?"

She sighed and made a weak display of nonchalance. "Yeah, I'm fine. What do you got?"

Esposito was not convinced, and not one to let things slide so easily. "Come on, Kate, we've been friends for years. What gives?"

"I'm fine, Espo. Really."

"That's BS, Kate. You've been acting strange ever since Castle got home from the hospital. Is everything all right with you two?"

Her first instinct was to lash out, to smack Esposito down for prying into things that weren't his business. But he was right. He was her friend. He'd been there in her darkest times, pulling her from the dregs of PTSD after she'd been shot. She sat back in her chair.

"I hear him, you know? At night, he has dreams, nightmares really. It's horrifying to hear him relive the moment."

"Kate, you've been there. You know what he's going through. You can help him, just like I helped you."

"I know that, Espo. It's not that." She glanced out the window, gathering her thoughts, weighing what she should say next. She turned back to Esposito. "This is all my fault, Espo. I did this to him. He's suffering because of me. Those nightmares are because of me."

Esposito nodded. Beckett was a crusader. He knew that. Beyond that, she had completely unrealistic expectations about what she could control.

"I could tell you that you're wrong or that you're being silly." He smiled. "But you'd ignore it and tell me I'm right, then tell me everything was okay. You'd thank me for being a friend, and you'd keep feeling the way you do, and we'd ignore the tension all around and do our jobs."

She laughed in spite of her pain. He'd nailed it. He continued.

"So, I'm not going to tell you all that. I'll just say this." He put his hands on the front of her desk and leaned forward. "If you love Castle, and make no mistake, you do, then why don't you ever give him credit for making his own choices?"

His words felt like he'd slapped her. He didn't let up. "I mean, seriously Kate, from the beginning, Castle chose to be here. To be with you. You didn't force him to make those choices. You didn't force him to get involved. Hell, he knew about LokSat BEFORE your AG team was assassinated. How'd that happen?"

A light of understanding flickered in her eyes, if just for a moment.

"I'm just saying that you are who you are, Kate. But Castle is a grown-ass man, and can make decisions for himself, and over the years, they've been some pretty good ones. You may love him to death, but I'm not sure you're giving him the respect he deserves, as a partner, as a friend and as a husband."

That was Esposito in a nutshell. He was her friend, and as a friend, he had no compunction whatsoever to tell it like he saw it. He was probably wrong, wasn't he? Her mind raced, and an entirely new perspective entered her brain. Was she being condescending? She'd have to think about that, but later.

"Thanks, Espo." Then she smiled. "I do not ignore what you tell me and do what I was going to do…"

He gave her a baleful look, his eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

Her smile broadened. "Usually I don't, anyway…you didn't come in here to lecture me. What's up?"

"Well, the Rydes owner is on his way in. I'm going to talk to him some about Haden Farber and some of this botcoin business. But Farber's girlfriend is coming in too, and I was wondering if you could speak to her?"

Her brain was back to business. "Where's Ryan?"

"We got a tip from a doorman at the Marriott Marquis. Apparently our victim got into some sort of an altercation with a cab driver the night of the murder, so Kevin is checking it out."

She nodded. "Ok, I'll talk to the girlfriend, you handle the Rydes owner. I'll talk to her in here."

Angie Reed was a small, frail-looking woman in her mid-twenties, but the bags around her eyes told a story of someone much older in life experience. She wore a mustard yellow uniform with matching blouse and pants trimmed in garish red piping and a nametag on her chest that told Beckett that Angie was either coming from, or heading to a job at a diner somewhere. It was hard to tell, because the weariness in Angie's eyes could easily have been exhaustion from a long shift on her feet, or sadness from the loss of her boyfriend. Either way, life had been hard to Angie, and Kate could tell she was just holding it together.

"Thanks for coming in, Miss Reed. I'm so sorry for your loss." The young woman sat in one of the chairs in front of Beckett's desk. One leg bounced nervously while her hands were clasped on her lap and her head was tilted down. Beckett took the other chair and placed a reassuring hand on Angie's shoulder.

"This won't take long. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about Haden." Angie looked across at Beckett and then nodded her head slightly.

"Ok. There's not much to tell. All he did was work and play on his computer. We really didn't do much. We couldn't afford it."

"I understand. Did Haden ever mention having any problems with anyone?"

Angie shook her head vehemently. "No. We just moved here. His parents were from Austria. His dad got a job with a big steel company in Pennsylvania, but they closed down right after they moved here. Both of his folks died when Haden was fifteen. He's been alone ever since."

"I understand, but anyone that he might have fought with? Maybe at work or in the neighborhood?"

"No. We put everything we had into just keeping our place. I worked double shifts and he worked overnight driving. Any extra money went into keeping his car going and into his computer." She buried her head in hands and sniffled. "I was always yelling at him that we didn't need all that computer stuff, but he insisted that he was making things right for our future."

"What did he mean by that?" Beckett felt a stir in the back of her neck. Something wasn't adding up. Granted, living in New York City was by no means cheap, but given where Angie and Haden lived, they should have been doing a little better than they were. Rydes drivers who worked as much as Haden should have brought in more than enough money to make ends meet.

"I thought it was because he was playing video games. I mean, he would watch all of these shows about competitive leagues with large payouts, but I never really saw him playing. That's why I couldn't think of anyone who would be mad at him. It wasn't like he was playing online with people."

Something she said prompted Kate's next question. "You said you thought he was playing video games. What changed your mind?"

"I was checking on his computer this morning, to see if I could access our bank accounts. Rent is due at the end of the week, and he'd been working so much." She suppressed another round of tears and continued. "Our account was low, so tried to find another account. I found this icon for something called a 'wallet'. When I clicked on it, it looked like a jumble of numbers, like you see on a stock market report or something. I didn't find any bank accounts or money, so I don't know what it all means."

Beckett's discussions with Demming told her the Serbs had been dabbling with the dark net and sophisticated ways of laundering money. Ways very much dealing with private wallets, botcoins and other things.

"Angie, would you mind if my computer expert took a look at your computer? There may be something on it that'll tell us who killed Haden." The woman nodded slowly. Kate rose and led her towards her door.

"We'll find out what happened to him. I promise." Angie's look was far from reassured. She put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and looked at Kate.

"That's good, I guess." She took a deep breath and mumbled. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Not having an answer, Kate watched as the young woman headed for the elevators on the far wall. The door opened and as Angie stepped in, Castle stepped out. He glanced around the squad room and caught sight of her.

Then, he did something that she hadn't seen for quite a while. He smiled. He held up a piece of paper in his hand started walking towards her. Her heart soared. At that moment, it was just like the days before the last year. He had the look of being the bearer of important information, back when they worked together as a seamless team to solve crimes. In this one instant in time, things were as they were supposed to be. Forgetting her melancholy, her guilt, and almost before she even knew it happened, she smiled.

Castle walked up to his wife, the euphoria of seeing her overwhelming him, compounded by the fact that he just might have some information relevant to the case they were working on. It felt like before, and she looked amazing to him. Seeing her was like seeing for the very first time, so many years ago. She looked radiant, perfect, the most beautiful woman in the world. Just when he thought she could never look better, she smiled, and he felt a rush of adrenaline. They'd really not had a moment since he'd left the hospital. They'd been alone together, but not really together. Something had come between them. But his journeys out and about today, getting involved at the office in this case, it got his brain going. The missing piece was her, and she was there, smiling at him.

He walked up wordlessly and placed his hand gently on her cheek. He drew her in towards him and kissed her. He kissed her with an urgency that they both hadn't shared in quite a while. Their lips met in a combination of longing and love that both seemed to have missed beyond the last two weeks, but over the last year. Right there in front of everyone, the Captain and the writer kissed, and for that one brief moment, everything was right with the world.

Eventually, they parted, breathless from the experience. Castle knew Beckett's wall would come back. Whatever he'd done to distress her wasn't solved by a kiss, but he'd made a dent. He could tell.

To Beckett, the kiss was more than she could have imagined. She loved this man so much. Her talk with Esposito echoed in her head. Deep down, she knew he was right, but that edge of guilt was coming back. She could feel it.

She regained her composure, and with a quick glance around the squad area, looked over at her husband.

"I thought you were supposed to be resting? What are you doing here?"

Castle's snapped into place, as if he suddenly remembered where he was. "Right, I was going home, but I stopped by the office. By the way, have you seen that place? Hayley and Alexis have done a great job. We've got all these new people and we're raking in the money, Beckett. I mean, REALLY, raking in the money. And there's all this cool stuff!" He turned his head to the side, as if talking to himself. "I wonder if we really do have someone called Q or if we can hire someone named Q…."

"Castle!" Beckett broke into his stream of consciousness. "I get it. Now why are you here?"

"Oh, right." Castle straightened his back and tugged the bottom of his coat. "Castle Investigations," Castle spoke with a certain arrogance, "has discovered something that may just be the break you need in this case."

"Castle." There was a slight edge in her voice, very much like the times when she would have to reel in his adolescent tendencies.

"Right." He held the sheet of paper out to his wife. "Our forensic accountant, Sarah, has been digging into Rydes and take a look at this."

Beckett took the readout and scanned the diagrams and figures. Her eyes widened. "This is amazing."

Castle looked at her in puzzlement. "Not really, most of the big detective firms have a forensic accountant. Financial crimes are big these days."

It had been a long time since Beckett had executed a well-needed eye roll. She'd been out of practice. All in all, this effort had been pretty good. Besides, when she smacked Castle on the arm, it made for a good combination. "Castle, focus."

The sheet in her hand showed large numbers of transactions on the hidden botcoin market. Botcoins were virtual, digital currency, and highly volatile in value. One day, they may be worth a $1 and another day, worth $1,000. The attraction was their anonymity, but their danger was the volatile nature. All it took was a huge infusion of more currency into the trading market in a short span of time to cause the value to drop, possibly causing holders of the currency to lose millions in value. The curve showed that a week earlier, millions of dollars worth of botcoins had been purchased by a single buyer, not unusual on the surface, but it had caused the value to skyrocket. As long as the buyer was careful, and sold his botcoins slowly, and not all at once, they stood to make a lot money.

The problem was that someone else, not the original buyer, sold a huge amount of botcoins on the market, all at once. They made a ton of money, but they also caused the market to tumble, making the original buyer's investment worthless.

Castle clasped his hands together. "We can't figure out who the original buyer is, but we know where they bought it from."

Beckett smiled. "The Serbian night club."

Castle nodded. "That's not the big reveal." He was positively giddy, but a sharp look from Beckett made him focus. He reached into his pocket and handed her another sheet of paper. "Look who dumped all those botcoins onto the market last night."

Beckett looked at the new sheet. "The botcoins were sold from the Rydes account?"

"Yep. The Serbians are trying to use the dark internet to launder their illegal money."

Beckett picked up the stream of thought. "Why not? It's quiet, it's hidden, and if the exchange price is right, you could make a few bucks on the deal."

"Right, but they weren't the only ones using botcoins." Castle and Beckett were slowly getting in synch, their investigative partnership rekindled.

Beckett nodded. "Rydes deals mainly in botcoins, so they have a large bank available."

Castle pointed to the second piece of paper. "They see the price rise, decide to sell while the market is good and make a quick buck."

"Meanwhile, there are some very irritated Serbian gangsters that just lost all of their investment." Beckett glanced over towards the interrogation room.

Castle stopped. "But if Rydes sold all the botcoins, why the Serbians kill Haden Farber?"

Beckett looked over at him and smiled. "I don't know. Why don't we ask?"

She turned and started walking towards the interrogation room, leaving Castle standing by himself. She stopped and turned towards him. "You coming?"

A/N: I apologize for the tardiness. It's the end of the quarter and work sometimes really gets in the way of the writing. I'll try to update sooner. Please, as always, leave feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The observation room had large panes of one-way glass that allowed viewers to see and hear interrogations going on in either of the adjacent rooms that the detectives referred to individually as "the box". One of the things that Kate basically gave up when becoming captain had been being able to stare suspects and witnesses down during one on one confrontations. During her time with Castle, she'd become even more effective, with him providing another set of eyes on a problem and being able to work through different pieces of information from another perspective. Castle and Beckett entered the observation room and Beckett adjusted the volume control so that she and Castle could hear Esposito talking with the owner of Rydes.

Amos Kon didn't look a day over twelve years old. He was tall, but rail-thin with a pale complexion and sunken, dark circles beneath his black-brown eyes. He didn't seem able to hold eye contact with Esposito, his gaze alternating to points around the room and down to his hands, which he'd placed flat, palm down on the table in front of him. Esposito was sitting back in the chair on the other side of the table from Kon and was paging through papers tucked into a plain manila folder that he held on his lap.

"So, Mr. Kon, what can you tell me about what Mr. Farber was doing late last night?" Esposito looked up from the file and caught Kon's gaze with the question.

"Nothing. I was asleep. I don't know what he was doing." Kon voice was surprisingly deep and there was the hint of something in his voice that caused Beckett's eyebrows to furrow in concentration. Seeing this, Castle leaned towards her. There was no way for the people in the other room to hear them, but it was a habit of Castle's that she found endearing.

"What is it?" He asked her, not really taking his eyes off the proceedings next door.

"I'm not sure. There's something." Castle knew that the wheels were turning in her head. He nodded and continued to watch Esposito and Kon, this time trying to use his own skills of observation to get a feel for what Kate had seen.

In the box, Esposito sighed. "You know, Mr. Kon, I didn't ask you where you were. I asked you about what Mr. Farber was doing."

"How should I know?" There was the hint of a pout on Kon's face.

"He worked for you, Mr. Kon. He was on a job for your company. It says here, the fare was centrally requested and dispatched from your company's server. It sounds to me that you should have a little bit of a clue."

"Look, officer." There was a hint of pleading combined with an attempt to be reasonable in Kon's voice.

"Sergeant." Esposito reasserted control by correcting Kon.

Kon nodded. "Sergeant. We're a 24/7 operation and entirely automated. There isn't a dispatcher. If you have a registered account, you can make a request and it gets processed by the server. The server finds the closest ride near you and sends an alert."

Kon took a deep breath and continued. "With the growth we've had, it's all I can do to keep up with all the background checks I got to do for new drivers and take care of the finances."

"I see." Esposito made a show of looking back down to his file. "What kind of employee was Mr. Farber? Any complaints? Anything show up on his background check that might indicated someone who had a beef with him?"

"Look, we don't grade our drivers. The riders do. If you get anything less than three out of five stars in your rating for more than five rides, your priority gets downgraded. You don't get any fares. If you don't get any fares, you don't get paid." Kon smiled proudly. "Capitalism, man."

"So what kind of ratings did Farber get?"

"He did ok. He got a lot of repeat business, which is good." Kon looked like he was remembering something. "Although…"

"What." Esposito clasped his hands in front of him, waiting.

"Look, most of the cab services have a monopoly on the hotel business. We're not allowed to sit in the cab stands in front of hotels and wait for fares. Besides, that's not our business model. You order, we come, you understand?"

Esposito nodded. Kon continued. "But Haden got lots of regular business, from people here on business travel, who wanted him to take them to hotels, a lot. He came up with kind of a retainer thing, where a customer could reserve him indefinitely."

He paused, took a gulp of air then continued. "Anyway, that meant Haden would be waiting outside some of the hotels for his reserved fare. Well, the cabbies didn't like that. In fact, one got so irritated, that he came up and attacked Haden outside the Marriott yesterday."

"We heard about that. We're checking that out. You're thinking that this cabbie might have had something to do with this? Seems kind of a stretch over a fare."

Kon became vociferous. "It's not just one fare. It's a lot of fares. We already have a bunch of the gypsy cabs coming over to us." Esposito nodded. The gypsy cabs were basically illegal. They were independent cab drivers without a city-approved medallion to operate like the larger cab companies had. It made sense that they'd gravitate towards ride sharing, if only to be legitimate.

Esposito took one more glance down at his paper. "I get it. We're talking a lot of money, but there's not a lot of cash. It's not like Farber could be robbed. You got paid and you paid your drivers in botcoins, why's that?"

"New economy, dude. Plus the exchange rates are in our favor. We upped our profit by almost 20% by going with botcoins." Kon was genuinely proud of his achievement. "Plus we have the secure electronic wallets for the drivers. After all, he that has no money, needs no purse."

Beckett tapped Castle on the shoulder. "Let's go." Like a force of nature, she pulled open the door to the corridor and knocked on the interrogation room door. After a second, she walked in and gave Espo a quick look, then stood over the table and calmly glared at Kon.

"Altýnnogo vóra véšajut, a poltínnogo čéstvujut." Her accent was flawless and despite Castle's belief that it couldn't happen, Kon turned even paler. Beckett had a smile on her face and she stared him down.

"It's an old Russian proverb. Little thieves are hanged, but great ones escape." Her tone was reasonable, but Castle recognized the menace in her voice. She had something, and in his mind, he was rubbing his hands together. He loved it when she closed in on an unsuspecting prey in this room. It was like a shark circling a bleeding victim.

Beckett continued, her tone unchanged. "You knew that, though, didn't you? What was your name before you changed it? Konevski? Konvelev?"

Kon slumped down in his chair. "Koniev."

Castle's head perked up at the revelation. "Russian? What gave it away?"

Beckett looked over at her husband. "I thought I heard some weird consonants in his speech, but then he mentioned the money and purse proverb, that nailed it for me."

Castle nodded then remembered the paper in his hand. "I know that you think you have a great business model, but honestly this is way more money than there should be. I mean, it shows almost a billion dollars in revenue." He pushed the paper over to Amos. Beckett took over.

"Not only that, it shows a huge selloff of botcoins yesterday. Enough to send the price tumbling." Beckett pointed to one of the graphs on the paper. "That had to be intentional. Were you trying to affect the market?"

"No, I didn't do that! I'd lose money if I did that." Kon protested, his eyes looking down at the paper.

"True, if making money was your goal." Castle's eyes had a faraway look , then he refocused. "But if you were working for someone, let's say the Russian mob, and you wanted to stick it to your Serbian rivals, that would be the way to do it."

"I am not a mobster!" He pointed down at the paper. "I didn't do that!"

Beckett bore in. "That's your account. That's your company's wallet!"

"I don't know how that happened." He glanced at the paper. "Wait a minute. That's my company's wallet, but it's an individual account, for one of the drivers."

"Which one?" Castle had a feeling he knew who's account had been used.

"That's Haden's account, but this doesn't make any sense." Amos looked up them and shrugged his shoulders. "Haden never had that much money in his account and there shouldn't have been any way for him to access the company's central fund." A look of panic hit his face, his brow began to moisten and his eyes widened. "Oh my God. Someone hacked us and cleaned us out." He pulled out a mobile phone and tapped on its face. "Whoever dumped the botcoins from our account into the market didn't have the payout come back to us. We didn't get the money."

Castle stood straight for a moment and glanced over at Beckett. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. Unconsciously, she was biting her lower lip, a habit that Castle found remarkably sexy. For a moment, he was lost in thought, remembering all the times she would do that, and how much he loved her, then he snapped into his head. He motioned to Beckett and Esposito to follow him out the door.

They paused in the hallway to talk. Esposito nodded towards the interrogation room door.

"I don't think he did it."

Beckett nodded in agreement. "I don't think he did it, either. He's scared out of his mind."

"Not to mention that he's in the crosshairs of some very irritated Serbian gangsters." Castle added in. "The thing is, Haden couldn't have done this. Look at where he lived. He and his girlfriend were barely making it. Plus, the story wouldn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" Beckett had missed this type of interplay. This was Castle at his best, which made her work at her best. Theorizing together showed how much in synch they were.

"Beckett, we're talking about a lot of money, with consequences that are crushing for the Serbians, right?" She nodded. Encouraged, he continued. "The only people that would benefit from this, and I'm not talking about the money made, are the Russians."

Esposito chimed in. "Yeah, but we already know that Kon isn't working for the Russians."

"Granted, but the story still makes sense. The only people with something to gain are the Russians, and we know Russian gangsters aren't stupid. They couldn't do this directly. It would need to be subtle, more nuanced." Beckett nodded. Castle thought processes were firing as he worked through the story.

"So the Russians see the Serbs as a threat. They could go to war, but that's too open, too bloody, especially considering how intense law enforcement is here in Manhattan. So, they'd need to figure out a way to do this that would hurt the Serbs without anything pointing in their direction."

Ryan walked up to join them, coming in on the tail end of Castle's story. He had a curious expression on his face. "Why would they go after Rydes? Why not something completely off the radar? The Russians have tons of shell corporations they could have used."

Beckett looked at Ryan. "Because Rydes does most of their business online and with botcoins. The Serbs were laundering money using botcoins. Rydes had the volume and the online access that could hurt the Serbs."

"Not to mention, the drivers are contractors with access to the centralized electronic wallet." Castle paused then continued. "Haden Farber was an advanced computer user. His set up at home was a premium rig."

Ryan shook his head. "Yeah, but was just for games."

"PC gamers are notorious for their ability to dive into code in order find back doors, cheat codes and the like." Castle took a breath. "What if Haden discovered that his key had been compromised?"

"He'd have to try find out who did it." Beckett took up the thread and followed it up. "He'd try to figure out how it was done, when it was done, and by whom."

This time Ryan agreed and nodded. "He probably left a trail. Whoever he was looking for was also an advanced user, so they had to know that they'd been compromised. They'd have to get rid of Haden to keep the Russians' involvement secret."

Castle and Beckett shared a long stare, each processing the information in different ways, but both coming up with same conclusion. Like one person, they both spoke up. "I know who the killer is!"

They shared a smile. Behind them, Ryan and Esposito gave each other a fist bump, not because they were close to solving the case, but for the first time in a long time, Castle and Beckett were their normal, quirky crime fighting selves.

Castle looked at Beckett. "I have to check something out first." He glanced Ryan's way. "I need your help, Kevin."

Beckett nodded in agreement. "I need to look into something as well. Meet back here in two hours?"

"Ok, sounds like a plan." On an impulse, Castle leaned over and kissed his wife. It was a soft, lingering touch on the lips that caught her by surprise. When he leaned back, he smiled and made her flush.

"Um, what about him?" Esposito broke into their reverie, pointing at the despondent figure of Amos Kon in the other room.

Beckett thought for a moment. "We'd better take him into protective custody until we figure this out. There's no telling who might be out to put a bullet in him."

As they turned to get their respective tasks done, Beckett whispered to Castle. "Thanks for that."

"The help on the case or the kiss." He smirked as her face turned another shade of red.

"Both. I've missed both." She reached over and touched his hand. "I'm glad you're here."

"Always." With a nod, they moved off to find their killer.

(Interlude)

The United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility (ADX), also known as "Supermax" houses the male inmates in the federal prison system who are deemed the most dangerous and in need of the tightest control. The worst of the worst are housed within the confines of the remote Colorado facility, including gang leaders who continued to exercise control of their organizations while in other prisons, terrorists, and traitors. Inmates spend 23 hours a day confined to a 7 foot by 12-foot cell and are escorted by no less than three officers to their one hour a day exercise sessions that are held in a concrete pit that resembles an empty swimming pool with no windows or view of the outdoors. It's a hard existence for hardened men. Stepping into the pit for his daily walk, Mason Wood reflected on how he'd gotten here. His plan had been foolproof. Flynn had been utterly reliable right up until he'd let the police and Castle get away. He was a survivor. Upon reflection, Beckett would have been better served shooting him outright, but arresting him would eventually prove to be a massive mistake on her part.

He was only slightly disappointed that Caleb Brown hadn't succeeded in taking Beckett and Castle out. It had been a good plan, but for some reason, he'd failed and was now rotting in some unmarked grave in New York. Nonetheless, he was pleased that Caleb had failed. Castle and Beckett would be his to deal with. The Supermax was an extraordinary prison, but Wood had survived far worse. He'd figure out a way out. The remnants of his team were smart and dedicated. It was only a matter of time.

He snorted to himself and started walking. The pit was underground. Like the narrow windows in his cell, the facility was designed so that the inmates couldn't get a good look at the surrounding area to figure out exactly where they were and plan escapes. As such, the room the pit was in was usually brilliantly lit with high intensity fluorescent bulbs that covered the entire area. This time, it seemed, one of the light fixtures was out, casting the far end of the pool enclosure in darkness. Mason shook his head. Government workers could be so predictably inept. He revised his estimate on how soon he could break out. He continued walking down the length of the pit. As he approached the darkened section, he stopped. The figure of a man standing in the darkness began to coalesce. As the man entered the full brightness of the light, Wood sighed and shook his head.

"I was wondering when you'd show up." Wood eyed the new arrival with a studied professionalism, any thought of a life beyond the next few minutes evaporating from his head. The man nodded and stood with a casual ease that belied the coiled tension of a professional warrior.

"I know you, Mason. You've been planning how to get out this place from the moment you got here." The man chuckled. "Hell, if I remember correctly, you designed most of the security measures they use, so you know all the tricks to circumvent them."

"Apparently, I'm not the only one." Wood looked at his visitor. The man was smart, experienced. He stood just out range of any desperate lunge Wood could make to stop what he knew was going to happen. "So what now?"

The man pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket, revealing the pistol with its attached suppressor on the end. "You know what happens now. My bosses were content on letting you stay around because you'd been useful. As long as you stayed off the grid, they would have let you go, but you were sloppy and careless. Engaging in a gunfight with New York City police officers at a "covert" CIA facility does not engender confidence in your ability to fly under the radar."

"That's crap and you know it." Mason snorted, defiance in his eyes. "This is personal for you. You're mad because I went after Castle and Beckett."

"It is personal. You should have left well enough alone. They had Bracken. They would have left well enough alone, but you had to go heavy and go loud." The man stood passively studying Wood.

"I had to protect my operation." Wood stared the man down. "Besides, Castle and Beckett's involvement was your fault. You pointed Castle towards the existence of LokSat a full year before I had to take out the AG investigative team. This is on you. I can live with my part, can you?"

"No."

"I knew it. How someone in your line of work has a conscience is beyond me." Mason Wood saw weakness. His adversary simply smiled.

"I meant, no, you can't live with that.' In a flash, the man's hand leapt up, bringing the gun out towards Wood. There was a snap and cough as the low velocity bullet zipped through the air and impacted Mason Wood in the forehead, killing him instantly. There wasn't even time for him to express surprise or pain. He simply just ceased living. The man slipped the gun back into his pocket and walked calmly towards the door. The door only opened from the outside, but he didn't stop walking. As he approached it, the door swung open.

There was no sign of Wood's prison guards. Instead, there was a petite, middle-aged woman in remarkable physical condition. She looked up at him, small tendrils of her red hair sweeping in front of her face. Without sparing a glance at the body in the pit, she shut the door and led the man down an auxiliary corridor. Within moments, they were in the large underground parking facility of the prison and were driving out the gate, unencumbered by checkpoints or questions. Their leadership in Washington found Mason Wood an embarrassment and had sanctioned his elimination. They drove down the barren, windswept Colorado highway in silence before she spoke.

"He's right, you know."

The man nodded. "I know."

"What if Castle starts asking questions? There's still a two month gap in his memory."

"I hope he doesn't." The man glanced out the window at the mountains in the distance. "I know I'm always saying that this is what comes with the job, but I'm getting tired of it."

"Really?" There was incredulity and warmth in her voice.

The man turned towards her and nodded. "Yeah, really. I think it may be time to call it quits. I don't want to do this anymore."

She smiled. "Me neither. Plus, if we're hiding in some remote corner of the planet, maybe Castle won't come searching for you."

"Maybe. I hope not. For now, that's got to be good enough." He put his hand down on the center console of the car. She reached down and grasped his hand and they drove towards the setting sun.

Rita and Jackson Hunt knew that they were lying to each other and to themselves. The job was their life. There was no getting away from it. They'd have to go on doing what they did. And deep down, Jackson Hunt knew that his son would come looking for him asking questions. The questions had answers Hunt was quite sure he was willing to answer. With no small sense of pride in his son, Jackson Hunt smiled. Dealing with Castle would have to come later.

Rita broke his concentration. "Where to now?"

"Well we still have to deal with Wood's organization. I don't want that hydra springing up everywhere."

"Where do you want to start?" Rita asked, knowing the answer.

Hunt smirked. "I think it's time we paid a visit to Mr. Flynn. I'd hate to think of the misery he's inflicting on his fellow inmates with that damn song."

A/N: One of the many questions I had about Season 8 was that Castle disappeared between Season 6 and Season 7. Beckett's AG team was killed at the beginning of Season 8. How did Castle know about LokSat a whole year ahead of time? This is one of the questions I wanted to get answered. I apologize if the murder mystery is dragging on. I have nothing but respect for the show's writers who could create 23 hour long murder mysteries a season. This is hard. Anyway, may be a week til the next posting since we're hitting a holiday weekend here in the states. Thanks for your patience and as always, feedback is appreciated.


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